US LPx2 Soleilmoon SOL50
Qa'Sepel - voice, keyboards, destroyed lyre
Silverman - keyboards
Niels van Hoornblower - horns, flute, electric horns
Ryan Moore - acoustic & electric guitar, bass, drums, theremin
Atwyn - electric guitar, squeltch bass
Frank Verschuuren - sound devices
Nienke - lady voice
Calyxx - little voice
Vinyl edition is limited to 1200 copies.
Hallway of the Gods is the name of the brilliant new studio album by The
Legendary Pink Dots, their first in two years. Recorded over the last 12
months in Nijmegen and Vancouver, this album presents the Dots at the
pinnacle of their creativity. Psychedelic electronics are perfectly mated
to Edward Ka-spel's distinctive vocal style, producing a transcendent
musical experience. Hallway of the Gods will initially available as a
limited edition double album, complete with different artwork and a bonus
track, 9 Shades (Houston) Parts 1 & 2 that will not be available on the
A spokesperson from the Dots' camp issued this cryptic statement regarding the new album,
So you are sitting in a plane a few thousand feet above the Atlantic Ocean innocently gazing out of the window, when it suddenly becomes clear that all is not as it should be.
For a start, your sick bag is humming a somewhat atonal version of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue in your right ear, just loud enough to irritate you and the cigar smoking geranium in the seat next to you.
Taking your eyes away from the window for a second, you note that your legs have disappeared, and in their place is a formless wobbling substance that resembled gelatin. Being a strict vegetarian you naturally find this disturbing, but your attempts to cry out for assistance end up sounding like small 'feeeeeping' sounds. A three headed eagle with bad breath squats on the seat in front of you screaming inaccurate quotes from the Koran in an obviously fake Irish accent.
It's time for a nervous breakdown, but the eagle mutates into a balloon faced sergeant-major who bellows "This is NO time for a nervous breakdown, asshole - we gotta go hunting ventriloquists!" And the plane turns into a bottle o'beer, bottle o'beer... and the earth turns into a peanut butter sandwich which is in turn eaten by a crocodile and spat out again because it tastes like nothing and the whole goddamn universe melts into a green blob, grows an enormous leg, tap-dances on Fred Astair's skull and mutates into EVERYTHING again.
Time twists backwards, and you are sitting on a plane innocently gazing out of the window eating a piece of dried banana.
We are but playthings my friends. We are yours to disrespect, my large looming friend up there...
Welcome to the Hallway, the exits are lies.
That's Greenland down below... Think of igloos, snow... Thirty plus varieties to throw, to eat, to smother you... Take cover as you fly cocooned across this fragile globe, because you can never rise above it. You'd better pay the earth your mute respect because you never learned to love it or to have, to cherish, to hold... Until death when we provide the great provider... I hope they'll never hide me in a brick, unnumbered, neatly fixed (Press HERE for pearls of wisdom...) Every day this stone rotates so be content, I'm listening. I'm etched upon a plate... it's disinfected so don't you look away. You're really unprotected and I sense the train of hot hyenas licking at your heels. I see the flock of hungry hawks close in around this plane. There is no sanctuary and everyone around you is insane.
My robotic afterlife was tainted with rejection. I'd gaze at my reflection and see rust. Let's form a club for all the clones that never made it. Techno lepers, cyber chumps, prosthetic paupers plunging pliers in your pocket... And if I dance when you are feeling bored... And if I serve you when you're lazy, lying limp across the floor, will you inject a little joy into my stick? Will you respect me in the morning?
She was so sad. No word of comfort really registered. No friendly hand could steady her. There was no contact, no consideration, penetration or hope. We stood here watching form our observation post. Now here's a finger, here's little line - we'll take you in we'll guide you home... But with two enormous wings she left us standing, reaching for a ghost. And on this mlancholy night there is a star that stands alone. Far beyond the constellations, far removed from highest heaven; cast aside and still we only watch but, my oh my, she's beautiful tonight.
H with a capital Hate, out catching souls and drilling holes and it can make you feel like Jesus 'til that Sword gets driven in. Stepped over on the homeless night, they sprayed the wall my desperate friend had tried to climb in vain. They felt his pulse, they swept him clean away. Oh you fucking fool - you left us carrying your useless pain and now we're trapped here until we die. Remains. The residue. (Is it you???)
Somewhere in the distance there's a figure standing proudly. Arms raised toward the heavens, she's commanding space and time to crack. It's raining. It's alarming. I see mountains on their backs. The blood red river rises. Armies on all sides assailing all that creeps. Shoul dI stand here like a sheep and dye a target on the space between my eyes? Should I run? Should I sleep? Should I mumble words to she who sees me naked from all sides? Is it all a little late to start believing? Oh I believe all sides... Oh anything...
First he shivers, then he burns and waves his arms for our attention. We drop our vague pretentions, form a circle and applaud. And praise the Lord, we're throwing tokens 'til the fire hits the sky. We fall in fits upon the woodpile and we shall scrape there until we die. Until we are reborn in light, glowing amber - a knowing look across our eyes. Yet as wet as new born babies. We have nothing left to hide. Take me as I am! Take us as we are! Take things as they came! Take it all!
"Dance for me!" he calls out from the fence but we just shake a little. "Fall for me!" We fall and make amends with holy Marys. I can't look you in the eye because your heel is pressing hard upon my head. You terrify me truly - you petrify me half to death. You're telling me that you feel mysterious today. Walk with me... or may I walk with you? What does it take? Be with me... I can still remember bring weightless, feeling free. I could dance without a hundred fingers pointing, where the laughs were never mean. And I know there's something out there. And I know I'm going to get there... Please don't be mysterious today...
The Saucers are Coming (transcribed by "S. Richmond")
It's 6:30 p.m. on a cool spring evening. I'm standing at the sink washing dishes and gazing through the window at a rolling red sky. It's all a part of the daily ritual. Once in awhile my attention wanders as the voice on the radio gives me new information. Crisis' and wonders and unequaled ???. Some of it sinks in and some of it just sort of floats by...in one ear out the other. A normal spring evening. The sort of evening where you're just happy to be alive. Just happy to be standing here washing dishes. THIS IS A NEWS FLASH. REPORTS ARE REACHING US THAT A FORMATION OF APPROXIMATELY FIFTEEN FLYING SAUCERS CAN BE SEEN IN THE SKY OVER ST. IVES CORNWALL. THE SPOKESMAN FOR THE MINISTRY OF DEFENSE HAS CONFIRMED IT CANNOT BE ASCERTAINED WHERE THEY COME FROM AND THAT THEY DEFINITELY ARE NOT WEATHER BALLOONS. AS SOON AS WE KNOW MORE WE'LL TELL YOU ABOUT IT.
The saucers are coming.
ThE eYEs OF tHe WOrLd aRE uPon YOu. THe hOPeS aNd PrAYErs oF LibERty LOviNg PeOPLe eVERywHEre mArch WiTH yoU.
(this is Edward speaking as two different news reporters at the same time)
IT'S 6:35 ON A CLEAR SPRING EVENING (it's 6:35 on a cool spring evening)
AND I'M STANDING IN A FIELD JUST OUTSIDE JAMESTOWN. (and i'm standing in a field just outside ?japan?) IT'S UNBELIEVABLE. IMAGINE THE SKY IS LITERALLY COVERED BY FOUR GREEN AND SILVER DISCS. (it's unbelievable. the sky is covered by four green and silver discs.) THERE ARE PEOPLE CRYING IN DROVES (some are reflecting orange in the sun that's setting) THERE ARE OTHERS AROUND CAMPFIRES (there are people crying in droves) KEEPING WARM. AND THERE ARE CROWDS BEHIND ROPED OFF AREAS TAKING PHOTOGRAPHS. (some people are sitting in tents and around campfires in some self-styled welcome committee) SOME PEOPLE HAVE EVEN SET UP SOME SORT OF SELF-STYLED WELCOMING COMMITTEE AND BANNERS BEARING MANDELBROT SYMBOLS. (there are crowds behind roped off areas taking photographs.) IT'S INCREDIBLE. AND AS I SPEAK THE FIRST TANKS ARE ARRIVING. (...self- styled welcoming committee and banners bearing the ?mantlecross?. and as i speak the first tanks are arriving. AND NOW AS THE SUN TURNS ORANGE IN THE WESTERN SKY EACH OF THE SILVER DISCS IS CHANGING COLOR. THERE ARE NOW HUNDREDS OF SETTING SUNS IN THE SKY.
(a lot of static and low voices)
...photos being taken...
What else can I say? Their green? They haven't showed their faces yet Haven't heard their voices yet. They're there but they're inside. ??? ??? ??? comprehend ??? ??? ???
WiTh LiBErty aND ?cHAOs?, ?hELLo LOndOn?. GOOdnIGHt TO YoU aLL.
Come to me. I've been waiting so long. I don't know who you are or what you are. Whether you're our past or our future. But I need you because I've waited long enough. And the saucers fly through the open window. They glide through my fingers. They land on my chest. They make knots in my hair. And I'm open and expecting on my makeshift alter. Prepared for what ever the new people will deliver. I trust. Because what else should I do but trust. What else should we do but trust. THEY SHOULD TAKE THE TAX BACK. This is bigger than all of us so we may as well lay down and trust. There is no moon tonight, but the stars are whispering our names. There is no moon tonight, but the stars are whispering our names.
...??? ??? OUTSIDE OF OUR COMPREHENSION...(completely outside their comprehension.)...TRYING TO ??? ???. TRYING TO ???. ??? ??? EVERYWHERE ??? BUT SITTING ON TOP THEIR ??? (i think they're just sitting on the job. i think they are playing with our minds.) ??? ??? I DON'T THINK THEY EVEN CARE ABOUT THE PEOPLE. [There is no moon tonight, but the stars are whispering our names.] (i don't think they care about what the people think.) WE MUST TRUST THEM. YOU MUST TRUST OUR JUDGMENT. (Everywhere road to the west country is blocked with traffic.) (how do we trust their judgment?) (People are coming from all over the country.) (but i don't think they've got anything under control.) BUT WE'LL GET THERE. WE'LL GET THERE. (yeah...they just don't get it.) WE'LL GET THERE. Oh thank christ.
Destined to Repeat
Your face seems so familiar. I'm sure we've met some place before. It could be we were lovers, maybe eye to eye in some... war. With pulling faces, screaming like two imbeciles. Two racing bayonets. We connect, it's unmistakable. So don't look you look the other way. Don't lie back and pretend that you are sleeping. This is something we're too deep in. We're destined to repeat. Come to me my lover. Speak to me my enemy. You cannot run away from me - we're destined to repeat. Look this way my lover. Speak to me my enemy - we're driftwood on an endless sea...
Here in this passage with the mist up to my knees - a frightened savage pounding panels, I beat on every door I see but I get no answer. Yet I know I'm not alone cos I hear laughter and I know it's all for me. And I know there's no returning because the gods must be appeased, and, of the millions, they nominated me. And I'll walk 'til they forget as we'd forget. I'm all theirs to disrepect and I plea guilty. Call it 'murder by exclusion'. Call it criminal neglect... Just how many false confessions will it take me? Must I climb the mountain? Must I cry against a wall? Am I doomed to stay marooned here in this hall. Shipwrecked in this gaping hole in time. In this lost museum that's forever closed inside. A place where nothing dies, it only crumbles. The statues turn their backs and just collapse in piles of ashes, fragments, remnants, ruins, trash... They torched this temple years ago but they left the ghosts to moan on glowing coals, in a hall that leads to a hall that leads to a hall that leads to a hall...